


sixth magnitude stars

by ephemeralsky



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, Banter, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Matchmaking, OR IS IT, Rom com vibes, a softer universe where terrible things did not and will not happen to them, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: “Andrew,” Neil starts. He looks down the hallway and finds it empty. Once again, he considers his options, but decides that it’s better to just tear the bandaid off. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever been known for his tact.“You like Kevin, right? My brother. I see you watching him in class all the time.”Andrew freezes with the can halfway to his lips.“Don’t worry - he hasn’t noticed.” Neil continues to observe Andrew, how he still hasn’t moved a muscle. “I can help you, if you want.”(or: in which Neil sticks his nose into other people's business, Andrew fails to be subtle, and Kevin battles a Neil-sized headache on a regular basis)





	sixth magnitude stars

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the manga 'Kanjou Spectrum' by Yoneda Kou
> 
> CW: Implied acephobia, mentions of underage drinking. Please let me know if I'm missing anything.
> 
> Sixth magnitude stars are the dimmest stars visible to the naked eye.

They’re being watched again.

Neil unscrews the lid off his iced lemon tea and takes a slow sip. In the periphery of his vision, he observes the boy sitting at the corner of the lecture hall, right at the back.

More specifically, Kevin is being watched again. Well, it’s not like Kevin has picked up on it.

Neil noticed during the first week of classes. Whenever they entered or left the amphitheater, he felt a pair of eyes tracking them. On the third day it happened, he twisted his neck around and immediately found the culprit: a blond boy perched at the far corner of the room, expression unflappable even as he turned his face away and pretended that he hadn’t been staring at Neil and his friends.

The Starer hasn’t been caught ever since, but Neil never fails to notice his long, heavy gazes. He hasn’t decided if he should do something about it or not.  

Allison kicks off her heels and turns sideways in her chair to plop her legs onto Neil’s lap. The only reason Neil doesn’t push them off is because she’s nursing a hangover.

“You still haven’t sobered up?” Kevin asks from Neil’s other side, tone disapproving. “It’s almost ten in the morning.”

Allison - her bloodshot eyes hidden behind her Gucci sunglasses - retorts with a simple, “Fucking bite me.”

“Honestly, Kevin,” Neil says, “the only reason you’re not still drunk right now is because I made you drink a whole bottle of water last night. If I had known that I would be saddled with the task of babysitting you, I wouldn’t have come here for college.”

Kevin half-raises from his seat, knees banging against the table. He’s always so easy to rile up. “Dad would have made you come here regardless.”

“Because he’s too cheap to pay the out-of-state tuition fees,” Neil says with faux-bitterness. “He’ll regret it when I suffocate you in your sleep tonight.”

“I’ll provide you an alibi,” Allison drawls, lifting a neatly manicured finger and twirling it around. “I’ll say you were with me all night. The cops would never figure it out.”

“I hope the both of you will step on a lot of legos,” Kevin says darkly.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Allison cries, theatrically pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Neil, hold and comfort me. Your brother is sooo scary, with his scrunchy scowls and lego curses.”

“Have I told you about the time he stepped on a lego and, while he was hopping on one leg, he stepped on another lego and then fell into the laundry basket and sprained his wrist?”

“You have, but tell me again. It’s my favorite bedtime story.”

“That was ten years ago!”

“When Neil tells the story, it feels like I was there in person to witness it myself.”

While Kevin and Allison continue to bicker, Neil darts a furtive glance towards the last row.

The Starer’s gaze remains unwavering.

*

“Do you know the guy in our Economics class, the one who wears black all the time and sits at the back by himself?”

“Neil, my dear,” Allison says, eyes trained towards the front, “it’s a class of two hundred. You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“You seem to know everybody,” Neil says. “Just thought I should try my luck and ask.”

They both finish another mile on the treadmill before Allison speaks. “Why do you ask? Is it something important?”

“Not really. I’m just curious.”

Allison scoffs. “Well, that’s new. Neil Wymack, resident asexual, curious about a boy. What next? Flying pigs? Honest politicians?”

“Curiosity of the intellectual kind,” Neil says, rolling his eyes. “Not everything has to be sexual or romantic, Allison.”

“Alright, alright.” Allison blows a strand of hair out of her eyes, her ponytail bouncing around behind her head as she runs. “I hate cardio.”

“I know. You prefer being on the court and tackling people to the ground.”

“I can tackle your scrawny ass any day, so you better watch it.”

“Keep your friends close,” Neil says sagely.

“And your enemies closer,” Allison finishes.

*

Neil has just left his Russian 101 class when he spots The Starer in the Modern Languages building. He is by the vending machines, stabbing a button and crouching down to retrieve his drink from the dispenser.

Neil considers his options, and walks over.

“Hey.”

The Starer becomes absolutely still. Slowly, he stands up, but doesn’t turn around. There is a pop and a hiss as he opens his can of Fanta Orange. He doesn’t drink it.

“May I help you?”

Neil wonders where to start.

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Neil adjusts the strap of his bag and leans against the wall, hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. “I would know what to call you, for one.”   

“It is rude to ask for somebody’s name when you haven’t given yours,” The Starer says. Just like his face, his voice is stale and impassive.

“Right. Where are my manners?” Neil says, a sarcastic edge to his tone. “My name is Neil.”

The Starer takes a loud slurp of his soda. His voice is quiet when he says, “Andrew.”

“Andrew,” Neil starts. He looks down the hallway and finds it empty. Once again, he considers his options, but decides that it’s better to just tear the bandaid off. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever been known for his tact.

“You like Kevin, right? My brother. I see you watching him in class all the time.”

Andrew freezes with the can halfway to his lips.

“Don’t worry - he hasn’t noticed.” Neil continues to observe Andrew, how he still hasn’t moved a muscle. “I can help you, if you want.”

“Help me,” Andrew says, as if the words are foreign to him.

“Yeah,” Neil confirms, “you can have my help. I can talk to him for you or something. I don’t know - maybe it’s just me, but your staring is pretty conspicuous.”

“Is that so.” Andrew finally brings the can to his mouth. After a sip, he says, “Are you sure you aren’t just imagining it? I might have been staring at something else. You jocks are rather full of yourselves, after all.”

Neil huffs out a dry laugh. “I guess we can be. But I’m good at noticing this kind of thing, so I’m pretty confident that it’s not all in my imagination.”

“I would not be so sure about that if I were you.”

The door to a nearby classroom opens and a group of students files out. Neil idly watches them go. Andrew raptly watches the vending machine.

“Perhaps you should mind your own business.”

Tipping his head back against the wall, Neil looks at Andrew. “If you stop staring, then maybe I will.”

Andrew slides a bored glance his way. “That will not be a problem,” he says.

With that, he turns on his heels and walks away from Neil.

*

Neil is on the phone with Kevin - arguing about Exy racquets and a missing pair of boxers - when Andrew stops him on his way out of the Modern Languages building.

Kevin is still harping on about Neil’s unconventional way of putting away the laundry. Neil simply cuts the call and raises his eyebrows at Andrew.

“May I help you?” he asks, because he is - in Allison’s words - a petty bitch.

“You may,” Andrew says coolly, “since you were so generous to offer it.”

Neil’s lips twitch. This Andrew might be pretty interesting.

He checks the time; he still has an hour before afternoon practice. “Let’s talk business, then.”

There is a moment of pause as Andrew’s gaze sweeps over Neil as if assessing him.

Then he turns and leads the way to the Student Union building across the quad, trudging up the stairs to the roof.

It’s a cool day in October, the blue sky feathered with white brushstrokes of clouds. Despite the nice weather, the roof is practically empty.

Andrew goes to the edge, fishing out a carton of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. He shakes a stick out and lights it up, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out through his mouth.

Neil stands next to him, propping his elbows against the railing. “Can I bum one?”

Andrew glances at him, then hands him the box of cigarettes. “I thought you athletes never go anywhere near cigarettes and smokers.”

“I usually don’t,” Neil admits. “But I steal a smoke or two sometimes, mostly for the smell. Don’t tell Kevin, though.” He pops a cigarette in his mouth and strikes the flint of the lighter, bringing it close to the stick. “He’s a stickler for this healthy lifestyle thing. He even made Coach quit a few years ago.” Neil snorts, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Well, he’s a bit of a hypocrite, though. He doesn’t smoke, but he does drink.”

“All college students drink,” Andrew points out.

“Not all,” Neil corrects. “The Muslim students don’t. The recovering alcoholics don’t. The ones on specific medications don’t. I don’t, either.”

Andrew looks at him like he’s waiting for an elaboration.

“I’m an underage, law-abiding citizen,” Neil says solemnly, a hand folded over his heart.

Andrew doesn’t even blink.

“Fine,” Neil gives in. “I only drink once in a while, when I’m at home. When I’m here, I prefer being sober and making sure my friends don’t do anything too stupid while drunk.” He shrugs, smacking his lips. “Well, that’s enough about me. You want to know more about Kevin, right? Just ask me what you want to know. I can introduce you guys too, if that’s what you want.”

With a hint of wariness, Andrew studies him. His eyes are brown - no, hazel, Neil realizes - and they seem almost impossible to read. “And in return?”

Neil cups a hand around his cigarette, bringing it close to his face. The scent wafts lazily up his nose. “I don't know. What can you offer me?”

“What do you want?”

Neil almost laughs. “Nothing you can give me, I think.”

Andrew doesn't say anything to this. Neil hums, turning it over in his head.

“How about you tell me something about yourself each time I tell you something about Kevin? This way I can screen you for anything shady, make sure you're not a criminal, et. cetra.”

Andrew continues to be silent. It's nice, Neil thinks, being around somebody who doesn't talk so much. He likes his friends and teammates, but sometimes they get too loud.

“How do you know I’m watching your brother?” Andrew finally asks.

“As opposed to Allison?” Neil ventures. He shrugs when Andrew doesn’t answer. “She was absent once, but you still stared at us, so I figured it was Kevin you’re interested in.”

Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette. His eyes never leave Neil.

“Oh,” Neil adds, “and I saw your socks once.”

Andrew’s eyebrow raises by a fraction.    

“They were rainbow socks,” Neil explains, feeling his lips twist into a smirk.

Andrew’s eyes slide off to the side, his expression unchanging. His ears have gone curiously red.

“A word of advice: never assume a person’s sexuality from the color of their socks.”

“But I was right about you.”

“Who says you are?”

“Do we have a deal or not?” Neil asks.

Andrew takes a final puff of his cigarette and throws the stub off the roof.

“That's very responsible of you,” Neil says wryly.

“Deal,” Andrew says, eyes riveted to the flagpole on the quad.

“Cool.” Neil holds a palm out for a handshake. Andrew stares at it, his own hand clutching the railing.

“Well, whatever,” Neil says at the blunt rejection, dropping his hand. Right before he can do that, however - Andrew’s hand shoots out and catches his.

Andrew’s palm is cold, rough - but his handshake is firm and quick. He retracts his hand to curl it around the railing again, eyes never once meeting Neil’s.

Neil blinks - once, twice - then stuffs his hand into his pocket, staring out at the quad.

“I guess we have a deal, then.”

*

“Fair warning - he looks like he has his shit together, but that’s not really true. Like, for example, he gets lonely pretty easily. He hates going anywhere alone. If I’m spending more time with you than I am with him, he’ll start noticing it, and eventually, he’ll start noticing you, too.”

Andrew responds with a grunt. Neil tilts his head back to look at the sky, hand shielded over his eyes.

“What else should I warn you about?” Neil snaps his fingers. “Oh. If he’s not happy with you, he’ll definitely yell at you. With him, there’s never a moment of peace at practice. The ones who join the team because they were inspired by him or whatever get their hopes and dreams crushed as soon as he opens his mouth. It was the same when we were in high school.”

Again, Andrew responds with a grunt. Neil sighs, squatting down beside him.

“You don’t seem that interested in this, much less eager about it.”

Andrew toys with his lighter, the flame igniting and dying with every flick of his thumb.

“I am never really interested in anything.”

“But you _are_ interested in Kevin, right?”

Andrew’s reticence takes on a ruminative shape. Neil appreciates that he’s the type to think before he speaks. Neil wishes he can be like that; conscientious with words, choosing them carefully and precisely instead of just spitting them out like a machine gun pelting out bullets.

“It is not as if I have a shot with him. Just hearing you talk about him is enough,” Andrew says in that colorless voice of his.

“Is it?” Neil wonders. “In my experience, people always want more.”

“I am not like most people.”

“That’s what they all say,” Neil murmurs.

A breeze glides past them, damp and cool. The dry leaves by their feet tumble along to the wind. Neil likes the scratchy sound they make as they do so, reminds him of that clear day in fall - years and years ago - when Coach told him he wanted to adopt him.

He feels more than sees Andrew staring at him.

“Ask me something about him,” he tells Andrew. “I’ll see if I can answer it.”

Andrew stows his lighter into his pocket and starts picking at a frayed thread on the sleeve of his black sweater.

“What is his favorite color.”

“Red. What’s yours?”

This time, Andrew is silent for so long that Neil begins to wonder if he heard him. When Neil turns to face him, he flicks his gaze away before their eyes can meet. His ears are a burning scarlet.

“Blue,” he answers quietly.

*

“He’s a Pisces. I don’t know if that’s relevant or not.”

“It might be.” A pause. “What are you?”

“Currently? Hungry.” A pause and a contained snort. “I’m a Capricorn. At least, I think I am. Well, not like it matters. What about you?”

“Scorpio.”

“Should I be checking your compatibility? See if the stars are aligned for you?”

“Perhaps you should get your head checked.”

“I did that, once. Got into a brawl during a game and hit my head. It was fine, though. It was only a concussion.”

“How reassuring.”

“Then I got elbowed in the face in the next game. Sported a black eye for a while, but my friends reassured me that ‘it really brought out the blue in my eyes’, whatever that means. A concussion and a shiner within a month - pretty sure Coach grew ten years older during that time.”

“Riveting anecdote.”

“I always aim to please.”

Neil unpacks the tuna sandwich he brought with him and starts eating it.

“What is that,” Andrew asks tonelessly.

“Lunch,” Neil says through a mouthful.

Andrew taps the ash off his cigarette, unimpressed.

“It’s got everything,” Neil adds. “Carbs, protein, some salad - it’s a perfectly adequate meal.”

“I had assumed that athletes practiced a much stricter diet, one that does not include a crushed, sad excuse of a sandwich.”

“Well, you assumed wrong.” Neil continues to scarf down his sandwich. “Usually I eat something from the cafeteria that’s slightly less sad. But no worries - Kevin makes sure I eat what he calls a well-balanced meal for dinner everyday.”

“You cook?”

“We both do. We had to learn how to do it, since Coach can’t cook a decent meal to save his life.” Neil mops some mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth with a swipe of his tongue. Andrew, with his brick-red ears and empty expression, averts his gaze.

“I don’t particularly like to cook though, so I leave it all to Kevin most of the time. Do you cook?”

“Only when I have to.”

“And when is that?” Neil asks, a little distracted by the piece of limp lettuce that’s slipped out of his sandwich and onto the cuff of his pants. He picks it up and chucks it over the roof.

“Yeet,” Andrew says blandly. Then, in response to Neil’s question: “When our mother is out of town and I lose a round of rock-paper-scissors with my brother.”

“That’s very specific,” Neil comments. “Your mom lives nearby?”

“She works at the university’s medical center. We have always lived close by.”

“That’s nice, not having to move out and stuff. We’ve always lived close by too, since Coach is - well, he’s the coach of the Exy team, but we still had to move out since athletes who are on a scholarship have to live at the dorms. It’s bullshit, honestly.”

“Have you ever considered _not_ being a dumb jock?” Andrew suggests.

“Which one of us is the one with a crush on a dumb jock again?” Neil asks with affected confusion.

“Shut up.”

“The one who’s been all heart-eyes since the beginning of the semester?”

“I said be quiet.”

“No, you said ‘shut up’.”

“Eat your pathetic sandwich, Neil.”

Neil eats his pathetic sandwich, feeling the strain of a huge grin splitting his face.

Sitting here, on the roof, with the wind tousling his hair and Andrew beside him -

It’s a lot of fun.

*

“Neil,” Matt says with a pout, “I haven’t had lunch with you in ages. Where have you been?”

“I see you at practice every day,” Neil says, pulling on a hoodie over his undershirt. He closes his locker and sits on the bench, bending over to pull on his socks.

“That’s different. We used to have lunch together everyday, right after your Russian class. Now I only see you at the gym and at the court with the rest of these hooligans,” Matt says, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of their teammates. A few of them protest with a ‘Hey! How rude!’

“Have you gotten yourself a new best friend? Are you cheating on me?”

“Matt,” Neil says flatly, “it’s not that serious. You’re still my best friend, even if I don’t eat lunch with you anymore.”

“So you _are_ seeing someone.”

“I most definitely am not.”

“You better not,” Kevin interjects, striding out of the showers with a towel around his waist. “I do not want you to be distracted by something as frivolous as a date.”

“Oh, here we go,” Neil and Matt mutter in unison.

“That goes for the rest of you, too,” Kevin announces to the rest of them. A chorus of groans erupts throughout locker room.

“Last time I checked, my girlfriend is the captain of this team,” Matt says. “Not you. Stop telling us what to do with our lives.”

Kevin seethes, but he begrudgingly drops the subject and changes into his clothes after Neil pokes him in the ribs.

As they’re walking to their car, Kevin asks, “Is there any truth to what Matt was saying?”

“Lol,” Neil deadpans.

“I hate it when you read out internet abbreviations.”

“I know. That’s why I do it.”

With a scowl, Kevin unlocks the car. They stop by the supermarket before going back to the dorms, Kevin inspecting each and every food item with the scrutiny of a federal court judge before putting it in their cart.

“Kevin,” Neil says as they stroll by the dairy section, “you’re still bi, right?”

Kevin drops the block of cheese he’s holding, chasing after it as it skitters across the floor. Gritting his teeth, he places it in their cart and glances around them as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“Yes, Neil,” he bites out, “I am still bi. Why are you asking me this in a public place?”

“Just checking.”

The last time they had a semblance of a conversation about it was when Kevin stumbled home from a party during his junior year in high school. Thoroughly plastered, he happily told Neil about how glad he was to be bisexual because it meant that he was able to enjoy making out with his longtime crush Jeremy Knox in the backseat of Jeremy’s mom’s minivan. Then he bent double and vomited on the rug in their living room.

Kevin glares at him. “You could have just waited until we got back to our room to do that.”

“Stop being so dramatic. It’s not like it’s going to be the end of the world if someone heard us.”

“I have told you before that it is -”

“‘Easier to be straight’,” Neil recites. “I know. You’ve only told me this a million times.”

Heaving out a sigh, Kevin squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he looks at Neil with the type of somber, constipated tenderness that Neil has come to associate with him.

“I don’t say it to be mean,” he says. “I say it because it is true.”

It’s Neil’s turn to sigh. “I know.”

“You should know this from firsthand experience,” Kevin continues. “When you told the person you were dating that you didn’t swing -”

“I _know_ ,” Neil repeats. “I remember. I was there when it happened.”

Kevin tugs on one of the drawstrings on Neil’s hoodie so that it’s significantly longer than the other, then hastily backs away when Neil tries to chomp on his hand. They go through checkout and deposit their grocery in the trunk. Halfway to the dorms, Kevin grumbles, “Whatever it is you are doing in the afternoon that you aren’t doing with Matt, it better not interfere with your game.”

“It might interfere with yours,” Neil mumbles intelligibly.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, you are pardoned.” Neil flutters his fingers towards the windshield. “Now drive us home.”

*

“He’s a history major, by the way. What about you?”

“Classics.”

“What class are you taking in the Modern Languages building?”

“Something about the influence of Greek literature on modern English literature. What is your major?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I was thinking of doing foreign language, but I like math too, so right now I’m taking gen ed classes until I decide what I want to do. It’s why I’m taking the econs class with Kevin and Allison.” Neil lifts a resigned hand and flaps it around. “I know, I know - I’m your typical dumb jock who can’t even decide what he wants to study.”

Andrew is sitting with a knee pulled close to his chest, the other outstretched in front of him. “That is not what I was going to say.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“I decided to study classics on a whim,” Andrew says. “The fact that you are taking your time to seriously consider your options isn’t stupid.”

Neil, lying on his back with his hands pillowing his head, slants Andrew an amused look. “Did you just praise me?”

“I did no such thing.”

“Just be nice and admit that you did.”

“I will push you off this roof if you don’t stop talking.”

“Go ahead and do it,” Neil challenges. “I’ll take you down with me.”

A protracted silence ensues. Neil looks up at Andrew, trying to figure out what’s wrong when Andrew unceremoniously dumps a Tupperware on his stomach. Holding it carefully between his palms, Neil sits up.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Andrew instructs, eyes fixated on a point beyond the horizon. The lines of his shoulders are as stiff as wood.

Neil pries the container open. It’s full of food. There’s rice and chicken and some spinach, and Neil’s confusion is somehow overridden by a sense of elation.

“Did you make this?”

Andrew gives a ghost of a shrug, his body still tense.

Neil presses his lips together, trying very hard not to smile. “Did you lose a rock-paper-scissors game with your brother while your mother is out of town?”

“Take it or leave it,” Andrew says, shoving a plastic spoon in Neil’s face.

Neil laughs. The tension melts out of Andrew’s shoulders like air bleeding out of a balloon.

“Okay, okay,” Neil says, his voice shaped like his smile. “But this is too much for me to eat alone. You’re going to have to eat with me.”

Andrew finally looks at him, expressionless and unyielding. Never one to back down, Neil scoops up some rice and hovers the spoon near Andrew’s mouth. “Not that I’m not grateful, but I need to take precautions and make sure you didn’t put anything weird in this.”

Narrowing his eyes, Andrew closes his mouth around the spoon. He looks away again as he chews. His neck is flushed, matching the deep pink of his ears.

Neil, feeling a little embarrassed for absolutely no discernible reason, starts eating his lunch, even though his heart already feels so full.

*

“That was why I wrote a term paper on how writing fanfiction based on ancient Greek literature can spawn a successful career as an author.”

“That’s very on brand of you. What’s a better motivation than spite, am I right?”

Andrew fiddles with the metal tab on his can of Fanta Orange. His eyes move from Neil to the flagpole on the quad.

“You do not have to pretend to be interested. I know that this topic can be rather dull.”

“You know I don’t mince my words, right? Or pretend to be nice or polite?” Neil steals the soda from Andrew and takes a sip. Andrew shoots him an annoyed glance. “Anyway, Kevin used to be obsessed about Greek mythology and literature too, when he was in middle school. I used to listen to him ramble on and on about Homer and Hesiod and Virgil. You two are going to have plenty to talk about.” Neil passes the drink back to Andrew. “Besides, I like listening to you talk. There’s never a dull moment when we’re hanging out together.”

The can slips out of Andrew’s hand, bouncing to the ground and spilling orange soda over the concrete.

“A little clumsy today, are we?” Neil rifles through the things in his bag and shells out his water bottle. “If you’re still thirsty, you can have some of my water.”  

Andrew snatches the bottle from him and guzzles some of the water down.  

“Oh! Before I forget.” Neil rummages through his things again and extracts two tickets out of his folder. “Here,” he says, holding them out towards Andrew. “We have a home game this Friday. You should come. They’re front row seats.”

The look of unmitigated disdain in Andrew’s eyes has Neil feeling delighted more than anything. He didn’t think that Andrew could be moved - much less fazed - by something as simple as an Exy game.

“Come on,” Neil cajoles, “it’ll be fun. You can take somebody with you and eat some overpriced popcorn. _And_ -” he waves the tickets around - “you’ll get to see Kevin in action. Sounds great, right?”

“On the contrary,” Andrew says, “it sounds like two hours of torture.”

“Just take the tickets for now, okay?” Neil tries. “You can always decide later.”

Lips flattened, Andrew reluctantly takes the tickets. He folds and tucks them in his pocket, then pulls out his pack of cigarettes. Instead of taking one out though, he taps the box against his palm and stares at Neil like he’s thinking about something.

“Will you be playing?”

“I’ll be subbing in during the second half.” Neil zips up his letterman jacket when a squall of wind passes by; it’s a particularly blustery day, but they both prefer sitting on the rooftop than anywhere else on campus. “To rephrase Kevin’s encouraging words, the other strikers are a laughingstock, so I will undoubtedly be in the starting lineup by next season.”

“He has that much confidence in you?”

“More like he has that much confidence in himself. He’s been playing with me since we were kids, after all. He thinks he can judge my abilities best.”

Andrew continues to gaze at him with his unreadable, penetrating eyes. “And you?”

“And me?” Neil cocks his head a little, smiling the brazen half-smile he wears when he’s taunting an opponent on the court. “I’m confident that I’m already at a level that surpasses them.”

Andrew’s gaze intensifies, but then it flickers; he rips his eyes away and says, “Hubris is not an attractive trait.”

“Don’t care,” Neil says. “By the way, are you cold? Your ears get so red sometimes -” he points to his own right ear - “like right now. You okay?”

“You are imagining it. My ears are never red.”

“Sure. And the sky isn’t blue, and the sun isn’t hot.”

“You never run out of quips, do you?”

“You’re very welcome.” Neil opens the Tupperware that Andrew had given him a few minutes ago. “Now let’s eat.”

*

After shaking hands with the opposing team’s lineup, Neil staggers off the court with a jubilant Matt and a quietly pleased Kevin flanking him. Matt has his arm slung over Neil’s shoulder and Kevin is ruffling his hair in a wordless ‘good job’ when he notices Andrew in the stands, watching them with that empty expression of his.   

“I’ll catch up to you guys later,” Neil tells Matt and Kevin, jogging up to where Andrew is standing beside… himself.

“A twin,” Neil states when he’s within earshot.

“No,” Andrew says, “this is my clone. I have mastered the art of duplicating myself.”

His twin expresses his exasperation with a roll of his eyes. Neil shares the sentiment.

“Did you enjoy the game?” Neil asks, removing his gloves and putting them inside the helmet tucked under his arm.

“I enjoyed watching you get slammed into the plexiglass wall, yes.”

“Liar,” the twin mutters, almost inaudibly.

Andrew elbows him in the stomach without looking away from Neil.

“I’m Neil, by the way,” Neil says, taking stock of Andrew’s brother to try and see which parts of him are different from Andrew.

“So I’ve heard,” comes the reply. “I’m Aaron.”

“You two should come to the party that we’re having after this,” Neil says. “It’s in one of the basement rooms at Fox Tower.”

“The athletes’ dorm?” Aaron asks.

Neil nods. “You guys can drink and eat and -” he sends Andrew a pointed look - “mingle around.”

“A ghastly way to spend the evening,” Andrew intones, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up.

“Take it or leave it,” Neil says airily. He catches the slightest quirk of Andrew’s mouth at having his own words thrown back at him, and it feels almost as exhilarating as scoring the winning goal.

Neil waves them goodbye and heads to the locker room. Coach stops by to remind them of the post-game meeting they’ll have first thing in the morning and to warn them to behave themselves tonight _or else_.

They shower, change into clean clothes, and sweep up almost all of the booze at the nearest CVS. By the time they get to the Tower, the party is already in full swing. Neil is listening to Kevin complain about their backliners’ performance during tonight’s game when he sees Andrew entering the room with Aaron in tow.

“Hey,” Kevin says mid-rant, “isn’t that the guy you talked to after the game?”

He’s slightly tipsy right now, which means that he is a little less abrasive than he normally is. His personality will tip back towards overbearing and finicky once he gets even more inebriated, so Neil figures that this is the best time to introduce him to Andrew.

“Yeah,” Neil says, “he’s in our econs class.”

Kevin squints into the red SOLO cup in his hand, brows inexorably furrowed. “Is he - is he your friend?”

Neil remembers telling Andrew about how Kevin gets lonely easily, and he feels the urge to laugh bubbling in his throat like champagne; it’s funny to think about, how well you can know a person.  

“I mean, ‘friends’ is a bit of a strong word. We do hang out together sometimes, though.”

“You do?”

“I eat lunch with him a few times a week, and last week we got dinner together.”

It was an impromptu dinner at the small cafe next to the library. Neil had bumped into him after toiling on his English essay, and since they were both feeling peckish, they decided to grab some dinner together. It wasn’t any different from the afternoons they’ve spent together for the past month; they ate and bantered and soaked in peaceful silence when they no longer felt like talking.

Neil likes spending time with Andrew. He hopes Kevin will too, for Andrew’s sake more than anything.

“I didn’t know you were that close,” Kevin remarks, glowering at his drink like it just insulted his mother.

Andrew is scanning the room, eyes skimming over the faces in the crowd. Neil catches his gaze and keeps it, feels something in his chest stretching and stretching like a rubber band the longer they maintain eye contact.

“We’re not that close,” Neil murmurs, “but from what I can tell, he’s pretty great.”

“Coming here is a terrible idea,” is what Andrew says when he’s right in front of Neil.

“And yet here you stand,” Neil says. “This is my brother, Kevin,” _though you already know that_. “Kevin, Andrew.”

Andrew’s gaze slides over to Kevin, but his face remains apathetic. Kevin acknowledges him with a nod and asks, “Do you like Exy? Since you were at the game tonight.”

“Why don’t you guys talk for a bit?” Neil says, wheeling away. “I’ll go get you some drinks.”

As he wades through the throng of drunk college students, he feels a weight forming on his chest and around his feet; fingers clenching around his heart like a vise, the floor growing uneven underneath him like sand. He bumps shoulders with one of his teammates. She smiles at him, says something, claps him on the back.

The music is loud. It pounds in his temples like a migraine, out of sync with the thump of his heartbeat. He makes it to where all the drinks are, but he finds it hard to focus on anything but the icy, heavy churning in his guts.   

“What are you doing, spacing out in the middle of your celebration party?”

Neil whips his head to the side. Aaron is leaning against the wall, a bottle of beer in his hand and a questioning gaze leveled against Neil.

“I was just…” Neil rubs the back of his clammy neck. The room feels a little too warm, a little too stifling. “Thinking. I was just thinking about some stuff.”

“Hmm.” Aaron takes a swig of his beer and casts a disinterested glance around the room. “This is tamer than I thought it would be.”

Neil arches an eyebrow. “What were you imagining?”

“Flamethrowers? Strippers and a disco ball? I don’t know - I always thought that jocks were a wild, rowdy species.”

Neil gives him a long, flat stare. “Have you ever talked to or met a college athlete before?”

“Nope,” Aaron says. “I mean, what the hell would we talk about? Sports? I have zero interest in that shit.”

“Was tonight the first time you went to an Exy game?”

“And the last, probably.”

“How did Andrew convince you to come in the first place?”

“I get to drive our car for the next two weeks. I hate to say it, but it was worth the two hours of torture.”

“You two are so alike,” Neil mutters.

“What was that?” Aaron asks. “The music is too loud.”

“Nothing.”

Neil surveys the drinks and finds a can of Sprite. Cracking it open, he moves to stand next to Aaron. Observing the flow of the party has always been much more fun for him than to participate in it, anyway.

He sees Matt striding up to Dan, their captain, and circling an arm around her waist; Dan throwing her head back and laughing at something he said; Allison pinning Seth’s hand to the coffee table while the group huddled around them explodes into cheers at her arm-wrestling victory.

He lets his eyes rove over the crowd to catch a glimpse of Andrew, to see if things are progressing well with Kevin. The vast disappointment he feels when he doesn’t takes him by surprise, like ocean waves crashing into him, swallowing him whole.

He snaps himself out of the weird feeling, takes a sip of his Sprite, swallows it down with more effort than it usually requires. He watches a flock of Vixens - cheerleaders - and the push-up contest they’re embroiled in with a few of the Exy team’s backliners.  

Neil turns to Aaron to ask him something, but stops when he sees the way Aaron has all his attention secured on the Vixens. Following his gaze, Neil easily figures out that it’s Katelyn he’s watching. The only reason Neil knows her name is because she occasionally hangs out with Allison and - by extension - with him.

He considers his options, but decides that it’s better to just tear the bandaid off. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever been known for his tact.

“You like her?” he inquires.

Aaron chokes on his beer and goes into a coughing frenzy. “I - what - that’s preposterous,” he sputters after the coughing subsides.

Neil remains nonchalant. “I can introduce you guys, if that’s what you want.”  

He is brought back to a different time and a different place; the same words streaming out of his mouth, the streaks of white clouds painted gently against the pale blue sky, the perspicacity shining through the caution in Andrew’s hazel eyes.

“No, that’s -” Aaron sighs. “It’s nice of you to offer, but no thanks. I already - we know each other. We’re taking O-Chem together.”

Neil hums. “Does she know you’re here tonight?”

Aaron runs a hand through his pale hair. It’s the exact same color as Andrew’s. “I don’t think so.”

Neil shrugs, glancing down at his soda. “You should talk to her.”

“You’re so meddlesome,” Aaron says with a hint of scorn, scrunching his nose up at Neil. “Why am I even talking to you about this in the first place?”

“Beats me. Offer to help still stands, though.”

Aaron looks off to the side, jaw ticking. “Do you know if she’s… single?” He blushes as he haltingly asks this, his ears turning into a shade of crimson.

 _Just like Andrew’s do when he’s with_ -

Neil’s mind goes blank, the answer slithering out of his grasp at the last second.

_Wait -_

He closes his eyes, covers them with a hand, counts to ten in all the languages he knows.

_There’s no way -_

It’s a stretch, and a nonsensical one at that. Andrew would have told him if Neil had made a mistake. This is just his brain making a hill out of nothing. It’s been a long day, after all.

“Hey,” Aaron says, “you okay?”

Neil drops his hand, opens his eyes, breathes in and out.

“Yeah,” he says, voice scratchy, “yeah, I’m fine. As far as I know, she isn’t seeing anyone.”

The look Aaron gives him is full of doubt - probably at Neil’s ‘I’m fine’ and not at his answer about Katelyn.

“I’m going out to get some fresh air,” he says, pushing himself off the wall.

“See you around, I guess,” Aaron says, watching Neil skeptically.

The relief Neil feels when he escapes the room and steps out into the night is immense, like the air can finally return to his lungs. There’s a bench outside the front door of Fox Tower, and Neil sinks onto it, his can of Sprite set on the ground by his feet. The sky is pitch black; no stars, no blinking aeroplane light, but the full moon shines an otherworldly silver, out of place in this vapid, earthly setting.  

Andrew finds him there some time before midnight. It should come as a surprise to him, but it doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” Andrew says, sitting beside him. “Why are you not inside, with the rest of your cohort?”

“I prefer being here, where it’s quieter. I can hardly think in there.”

“I am surprised you can think at all, with how many hits you have received to the head.”

“That’s a low blow.”

“I can go lower.”

Neil can’t help but smile. He folds a leg against his chest, resting his cheek on his knee. “And you? What brings you here?”

Andrew looks at him squarely in the eyes. “Someone promised to get us drinks but never returned with them.”

“Sounds rough,” Neil says, unrepentant.

They both fall quiet. A car skates into the parking lot. Two football players hop out, arms full of takeout boxes. They holler a greeting at Neil when they go inside. Neil recognizes them, but he has never cared to learn their names. The night goes still again.  

His throat is a little dry, but he has to ask: “How did it go with Kevin?”

Andrew is quiet for a while. Neil lets him take his time to say what he wants to say. Andrew’s pensive silences are one of his favorite parts about Andrew, after all.

“You weren’t exaggerating when you said that he is very opinionated.”

“I hope that didn’t turn you off.”

“It didn’t, but the fact that he likes pineapples on pizza does.”

Neil breathes out a soft laugh, feels like he could laugh and laugh until he cries. He notices Andrew’s hand clenching and unclenching in his lap. He jams it in the pocket of his leather jacket like he wants to hide it, ripping his gaze away from Neil’s face.

He looks at the sky instead, head tipped backwards. The light of the moon makes his skin glow white, almost as translucent as his hair. Neil has never noticed it before, but Andrew has freckles, sprinkled over his cheeks and nose like stardust.

Neil closes his eyes, wishes that he had remained in his safe sphere of oblivion.

*

It’s raining.

There’s a wet patch on Andrew’s right shoulder, water sluicing down the tip of the umbrella and plinking onto his jacket.

“You’re getting wet,” Neil tells him. “Come closer. There’s no point in using an umbrella if you’re letting yourself get drenched.”

Andrew’s steps falter, and Neil quickly trots back towards him, holding up the umbrella over Andrew’s head.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrew stares at him, then says, “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Neil says, eyeing Andrew carefully. “Shall we?” he asks, nudging his chin towards the Student Union building.

They continue trekking across the quad, Neil’s shoulder grazing against Andrew’s as they huddle closer. The patter of rain against the umbrella above them is soothing, like the steady rhythm of a metronome. Even the curtain of bleak grey clouds and the squelch of their soaked sneakers are strangely calming.

Neil’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens up the text from Matt and informs Andrew that Matt and the others are waiting on the first floor of the food court, at a table between Panda Express and Chipotle. Andrew merely grunts, uninterested at the prospect of having lunch with Neil’s friends. Neil isn’t surprised he agreed to tag along though, with the weather the way it is and Kevin joining them.

Neil feels his heart constrict, struggling on its next beat. The chill seeps through his clothes and into his bones. His fingers, curled around the handle of the umbrella, begin to feel numb.

Andrew stops again. Neil turns to him, eyebrows raised in a wordless question.

“Hey,” Neil says, voice nearly drowned out by the pouring rain, “you okay?”

The muscles around Andrew’s jaw seem to tighten. He has his lips parted to reply when a strong wind bursts by, snagging the umbrella out of Neil’s grip. A spray of water hits his face. Swiftly, Andrew extends an arm and grabs the umbrella before it can fly further. He holds it up over them, raindrops trickling down their faces.

“Nice save,” Neil says. He is half-joking when he adds, “With those reflexes, you could try out for the Exy team.”

The severely unamused look Andrew levels at him has him digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he fights back a smile.

He holds his palm up to take the umbrella back. When Andrew passes it to him, their fingers collide. Neil’s hand bucks against the contact and he nearly drops the umbrella. He draws his eyes away from Andrew’s probing gaze, watching the raindrops bruise the grass around their feet.

*

“Neil.”

Neil grunts, pressing the keys on his calculator and scribbling down numbers on his notepad.

“ _Neil_.”

“What?” he snaps, swivelling around in his chair.

Kevin crosses his arms over his chest, standing imperiously over him. “I’ve been asking you what you want for lunch for the past few minutes.”

“Is that so.” Neil turns back to his homework. “Anything is fine. Surprise me.”

“You better not complain later on,” Kevin warns. “We will have a guest for lunch, so I expect you to keep any unnecessary comments to yourself.”

“Really, Kevin? Really? You, the person who yells unsolicited criticism all the time, are seriously telling me to hold my tongue? Really?”

“You’re just as bad as I am,” Kevin mumbles petulantly.

Neil stops writing. “Wait, we’re going to have somebody over?”

“Yes,” Kevin says, going to the kitchen, and Neil follows him.

“Well? Who is it?”

“Andrew.”

Oh. Right.

Right.

Feigning a casual attitude, Neil leans against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “So you and him really hit it off, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Kevin sticks his head in the freezer and takes out some chicken and peas. “He expressed a vague interest in my Gundam collection, and I told him he can come by and see it for himself if he wants to.”

“That’s great,” Neil says, gaze falling to the tiled floor. “Really great.”

He returns to his desk to resume his homework, but he’s too distracted to do anything but doodle fox paws on the margins of his notepad. Levering himself off the chair, he decides to go out for a run and changes into his jogging attire.

“I’m going out,” he informs Kevin as he passes the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Kevin asks, forehead creased.

Neil kneels down to tie his shoelaces. “Running.”

“You already did that this morning,” Kevin says. “Need I remind you that we’re going to have practice later today? I would prefer it if you don’t overexert yourself for no reason.”

“I’m not -”

Neil’s retort is cut off by a knock at the door. Kevin gives him a reproachful glare as he answers it. Unsure of where to look or what to do, Neil fidgets with his keys as Kevin lets Andrew in.

“Make yourself at home,” Kevin says, the words contradictory to his stern, unwelcoming voice. Truly, he is Coach’s son through and through.

While Kevin goes back to preparing lunch, Neil tries to act normal and flashes Andrew a half-smile. “Hey.”  

Andrew examines him. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah. I’m going out for a run.”

“No, you are not,” Kevin shouts from the kitchen.

Neil rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’m going out for a drive, then.”

Andrew nods. He doesn’t move from the entrance, staring at a point above Neil’s shoulder.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Neil asks, an eyebrow quirked.

“When will you be back,” Andrew asks instead, his voice without inflection.

“I’m not sure.” _Maybe when my head clears up and things start to make sense again_.

Andrew nods again, face as detached as ever. When Neil passes him to get to the door, he says, very quietly, “I’m glad things are going well between you and Kevin.” He injects as much honesty as he can into the words, even throws in a little smile to go with them.

Andrew doesn’t say anything in return, but it’s not like Neil expected him to.

He goes out the door. Ambles into the elevator. Almost forgets to press the button. Drags his feet out to the parking lot. The sky is overcast, the wind whistling through the trees and buildings. His heart feels unbearably heavy.

He’s about to get into the car when he hears footsteps thundering behind him. When he turns, he is met with an unusual sight: a flustered Andrew who, despite his mien of stoicism, cannot hide the fact that he is out of breath.

“Andrew? Is everything okay?”

Andrew swallows, throat bobbing as his breathing gradually slows. His shoulders are bunched up, rigid.

“There is something I have to tell you.”

“Okay,” Neil says, still a little bewildered. “Do you want to go back inside?”

Jerkily, Andrew shakes his head. His eyes are hard and uncompromising, but his mouth - usually a sewn, unmoving line - is unraveled.

“It isn’t Kevin,” he says.

A beat passes.

“What isn’t Kevin?” Neil asks, frowning.

Another beat passes. Andrew works his jaw and says, “The one I’ve been watching.”

Neil blinks, the times he spent with Andrew replaying in his head like a film.

Oh, he thinks.

“Oh,” he says. His brain feels like it’s short-circuiting and his heart is pumping furiously like he just finished a marathon.

“Oh,” Andrew echoes, flat and unemotional. Somehow, Neil thinks he sounds disappointed.

“No, wait.” Neil rubs his face, then covers his mouth as he collects his scattered thoughts. “I don’t want to assume things and get them wrong again, so I have to ask - are you trying to say that you like me?” he says, voice muffled by his palm.

Andrew’s ears and neck are dyed in a blazing red. “I never said anything about liking you.”

A shuddery laugh escapes Neil’s throat. His hands are shaking. “But you _are_ interested in me, right?”

The effects of Andrew’s hard, impenetrable eyes are belied by the quiver of his mouth as he admits, “I am.”

Neil lets his hand drop from his face. Andrew’s hands are curled into fists, his knuckles white. Neil’s fingers twitch; he reaches out and asks, “Can I…?”

Andrew’s stare burns through him like a comet. “Yes.”

Carefully, Neil takes Andrew’s hand in his. It’s cold, calloused, but neither of them flinch at the contact.   

“I’m glad to hear that,” Neil says, soft and low, “because I’m interested in you too.”

As he says it, he realizes just how true it is. Having never been interested in anyone before, not even the people he dated on a whim, this realization feels profound and bright and frightening - all at once.

Impossibly, Andrew grows even redder at the confession. Neil’s cheeks are starting to hurt from the force of his smile.

“Why didn’t you correct me from the start?”

“Simply having the opportunity to talk to you was… enough.”

“And now?” At Andrew’s stony expression, Neil laughs again, ducking forward until his forehead brushes against Andrew’s. “I can’t believe how stupid we’ve both been.”

Andrew adjust his grip so that their fingers are laced together and squeezes Neil’s hand, his gaze flitting down to Neil’s mouth. Instinctively, Neil parts his lips, eyelids drooping.

“There you are!”

Kevin’s voice has Neil jumping and Andrew tensing.

“You suddenly disappeared. What are you doing here with Neil?” Kevin asks Andrew, before cutting Neil a quizzical look. “I thought you were going for a drive.”

“Kevin,” Neil says, an eyebrow cocked, “what does it look like we’re doing?”

Kevin opens his mouth, then closes it when his gaze lands on Neil and Andrew’s linked hands. He gives Neil a despairing, agonized look.

“Dad should have let you go to a different university.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me, a fool: Haha this fic is gonna be short and dumb and 2k words at most
> 
> Also Kev and Neil's relationship is bi-ace solidarity at its finest
> 
> My [tumblr](http://nakasomethingkun.tumblr.com).


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